The White Room
by Faerie Dreaming
Summary: OneShot. Harry awakens to find himself in a strange white room strapped to a bed. People are telling him that magic doesn't exist! What's going on? RR please! Enjoy!


I got this crazy idea for a story so I decided to put it down on paper. I hope you all enjoy it. It's really weird. If you're not into a strange twist on HP, don't read. But if you are, by all means lovely, read read read! (And review!)

Thank you quirky!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Hope you like!

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The White Room 

"The boy's obviously gone mad."

"What?"

"I'm afraid so."

"B-but…he's always seemed so normal except back when he was—"

"He stirs. Let's take this outside."

A door opened, then slammed in a hurry.

Harry's eyes slowly and sluggishly began to open. "Mmm…" he moaned. An indistinct scene was forming before him as his bleary vision adjusted. It was white. All white. He couldn't understand his surroundings. His body felt stiff. Where was he? Then everything around him came into focus: a blank white ceiling with one dome-like light in the middle. Moaning again, Harry lifted his head to look around. The room was completely white, and it was empty not including himself, and even his clothes and bed sheets were white.

Trying to move him arms, he discovered that he couldn't—they felt almost…petrified? When he looked to see, he became aware of the truth, and the truth was so much worse. Both his arms were secured tightly by thick brown leather straps—so tightly in fact, that they were almost cutting off circulation.

Suddenly, he panicked and began to scream. "HELP! HELP ME! SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME! I'M IN HERE! HELP!"

Someone did come in, but it wasn't exactly whom he had expected. Three men in light blue scrubs entered the room and rushed over to him. They had white paper masks concealing their lower faces, so Harry couldn't really tell what they looked like, but he guessed that they were nurses by how they were attired.

"Son, you need to calm down," one commanded, as Harry yanked at the restraints.

"Please don't do this, you'll only make it worse on yourself," another strongly advised.

"We'll send the doctor in," the third resolved. With a nod to the other two, he motioned them out, and then followed suit.

Harry could hardly breathe. He felt hot and sweaty and was dying to get out of his restraints. Trying to calm himself, he laid his head back on the lumpy white pillow and took a few deep breaths. Shortly afterwards, the door opened again.

The man who entered was tall, lean, and clad in a long white coat, but he wasn't wearing a mask. He had a hard but kind face, that Harry immediately recognized.

"Professor Lupin!" Harry exclaimed, overjoyed.

He didn't answer. Without speaking, he pulled a white chair from the corner of the room that Harry hadn't noticed before, and seated himself in front of his bed. Lupin examined him with a piercing stare as Harry stared back at him, with bewilderment.

Finding his voice, Harry spoke. "Professor Lupin! Remus Lupin! Don't you know me? It's me, Harry! Harry Potter! You were best friends with my father, James Potter before he…" His voice choked.

"Young man, I have no idea who you are. Before today, I had never seen you in my entire life. And my name is not _'Remus Lupin'_. I am Dr. Roger Langley."

"But you never knew my father?"

Dr. Roger Langley ignored Harry's question. "Will you do something for me?"

The anger boiled up in Harry's chest, but he forced it back down. He wasn't going to get any answers by not cooperating. "What?" he replied through gritted teeth.

"Tell me where exactly you think you are and where you're supposed to be."

Harry smiled triumphantly. Finally! Maybe he _did_ recognize him. "Well, I think I'm some white room off in Merlin-knows-where, and I'm _sure_ I'm supposed to be at Hogwarts."

"'_Hogwarts'_, you say? And what do you think this _'Hogwarts'_ is exactly?"

Was this guy dense? "Hogwarts! The School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. What's wrong with you!"

Dr. Langley shook his head and clicked his tongue twice, obviously disappointed.

"Mr. Potter," he began with an apprehensive tone. "I'm going to tell you something and you may not like it, but it's the truth. There is no such thing as Hogwarts. And there is definitely no such thing as witchcraft and wizardry."

"WHAT!" Harry didn't know what to say or do. A groggy feeling swept over him. He felt lost, like there was a glass soundproof barrier between him and the rest of the world. How was he supposed to prove that he was right to this Dr. Roger-whatshisface?

The perspiration on Harry's forehead was starting to turn cold… That's it! His forehead!

"It's real!" Harry told the doctor. "I can prove it to you!"

"Oh really?" He looked amused. If Harry wasn't bound down to the bed, he would've punched that bemused smile right off Dr Langley's face.

"Yeah really. On my forehead, I have a scar. It's shaped like a lightning bolt, how the BLOODY HELL could I have gotten that without magic?"

Dr. Langley went silent again. After several minutes of Harry panting at him in anger like a rabid dog, he got up and loosened Harry's restraints so he could get out. "I'm going to let you out of these, but _don't_ do anything rash. I think you need to talk to your parents about this." Then he left without giving Harry any time to react.

His parents? He was actually going to see his parents? Harry would gladly give up the idea of magic if he could see his parents alive again. Hell, his parents would definitely believe him and they could tell Dr. Asshole to sod off. Finding a corner of the room, he sat down on the floor and leaned his back against the wall, discovering that they were both padded.

Just moments later the door reopened, and Dr. Langley stepped back in. "Harry, I've brought your parents. Maybe they can convince you that what you're saying is utterly untrue."

Two people stepped into the room. They were completely not who Harry was expecting to see. First a plump woman entered, dressed completely in all lime green and had rather gaudy make-up plastered on her face. Then a man stepped in after her. He was tall, gangly and sickly looking. They couldn't possibly be his parents. These weren't the people he'd seen in the Mirror of Erised in his first year at Hogwarts. He was really pissed off at this point, and he jumped to his feet. He couldn't hold his anger inside anymore. How could they trick him like that? About his parents!

"YOU'RE _NOT_ MY PARENTS! GET OUT! I DON'T KNOW YOU! GET OUT!"

This took his supposed parents and the doctor by surprise. Dr. Langley turned and quickly ushered the couple out of the room as the three nurses from before hurried back into Harry's room. Seeing that they were heading right for him, Harry bolted. He dodged their outstretched arms and ran for the door. Just as he'd gotten it open, something circled around his waist and caught him. It was one of the nurses pulling him back. But then Harry recognized someone quickly just outside the room—Hermione. He gasped; she was gorgeous. She appeared seventeen, the same as he was, and she stood at the secretary's desk looking worried. "Hermione!" he called out. She turned to look at him right as the door was closing.

When she caught his gaze, she immediately recognized him. This shocked Harry so much that he didn't even realize what went on next. The nurses took advantage of this momentary loss of awareness to bind him back down to the bed.

"Hermione…" he whispered. "I want to see her."

"Excuse me?" one nursed asked.

"I want to see Hermione!"

"You'll have to speak to Dr. Langley about that."

"To hell with that git! I want Hermione!"

"Umm…we'll ask the doctor for you…" They left, eyeing each other knowingly.

Hermione…she was here! He couldn't believe he was actually going to talk to someone who knew and recognized him. There were so many things running through his head that he wanted to tell her.

The door creaked. Harry turned to see Hermione enter quietly and sit in the same chair that Dr. Langley had occupied. Her eyes, overflowing with sadness, never left him. "Hey," she greeted him softly but worriedly, touching his forehead. "How are you feeling?"

"I've felt better," he answered. She was so radiant, but she looked so sad. He hated to think that he was the cause of it. "Hermione?"

"Mmm?"

"_You_ believe me right?" Tears clouded his vision. He tried to choke them back.

Hermione didn't answer him; she just looked down at her lap. Harry then knew that even she didn't believe him.

"But if it's not real, then how did I get my scar?"

"Your parents said that you…" She bit her lip, afraid to go on.

"I what?" Harry urged.

"…you did it to yourself. On your…eleventh birthday."

"_WHAT?"_

"I'm sorry, Harry, but you have to stop this. What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with _you!_" Harry roared.

Hermione began to cry. Remorse immediately filled Harry.

"Don't cry, Hermione. I'm sorry…" He had to say it. He didn't know what else to do to keep her with him. "I love you."

Hermione cried harder. "Oh Harry! I met someone. His name is Ron and—"

"Wait!" Harry interrupted. "Ron? As in Ron Weasley?"

"How did you know?"

"How could I not know if all I'm saying isn't real? I know him as well! He and I are good friends too!"

Hermione shook her head in that same disappointed way that Dr. Langley had. She stood up and bent over him. Harry closed his eyes as she placed a delicate, lingering kiss on his trembling lips. One of her burning tears fell to his face. It mingled with one of his and rolled off his cheek silently. She was gone before he could open his eyes.

Murmuring could be heard from outside. Then Dr. Langley entered and told Harry, "Looks like you'll have to stay here a bit longer than we expected."

Harry was too dazed to answer. He looked past the doctor, his gaze aimed at the small, rectangular window in the door of the room. Hermione was there, he hand resting gently against the glass and tears flowing from her pretty eyes. That was the last time he saw her.

For the rest of his life, Harry spent his days in the white room, wondering about the truth. Though Hermione never came to see him, she never left his thoughts. Her realized that he really did love her, and her name was the last word on his lips.

The day Harry Potter died, a male nurse entered the white room and looked at the lifeless form, smiling. _'It's finally happened. It worked,'_ he thought to himself with exultant joy.

"Hey Tom!" someone called from outside the room.

And Tom Marvolo Riddle left to see what they wanted.

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So…pretty heavy stuff, huh? Just so we're clear, the whole mystery of it is that you don't know exactly how Tom pulled this off.

Anyways, Please no flames. Read/review!


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